A white horse drew in the casket, draped with the flag of the United States, of Raleigh Police Officer Gabriel Torres across Yonkers Road to Cross Assembly Church.

The sun was bright but it was quiet and the mood was somber outside the church’s main entrance early Saturday afternoon.

The church was crowded with hundreds of people — family members, friends and law enforcement officers from across the state — there to celebrate and remember the life of Torres, who was shot and killed in the mass shooting in the Hedingham neighborhood on Thursday, Oct. 13.

Torres’ wife, Jasmin, tearfully shared their story, which she said comprised spans of distance from each other.

“My Gabriel, we were no strangers of distance. Our story revolved around distance. Every chapter of our lives together brought us distance,” she said.

Jasmin and Gabriel Torres met and started dating in September 2014. They lived an hour away from each other but would daily or almost daily make the drive between north New Jersey and Jackson, New Jersey, to be together, Jasmin said.

“We loved each other, with towns and cities between us. It was a challenge, a challenge it was, but we got through it,” Jasmin said.

“But this distance,” she said, “this new distance, this one I will struggle with my whole life.”

In 2016, Jasmin said, Torres shared with her his desire for more in life and shortly after, at age 24, he joined the U.S. Marine Corps. “You wanted something to be proud of. You wanted to be able to provide for me and a future family,” Jasmin said.

In the military, Torres trained as an electrician, learning to install, operate and maintain power generation systems. He was deployed to Italy for a time.

While in service, Torres rose to the rank of sergeant, earning on the way a Good Conduct Medal, a National Defense Service Medal, a Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, a Humanitarian Service Medal and a Sea Service Deployment Ribbon.

In June 2018, the Torreses got married and were finally able to be together, Jasmin said. She packed her bags and moved to Jacksonville, North Carolina. But just months later, Torres left for a two-month training and they were apart once more. In April 2019, he had to deploy once more and “we got through it,” she said.

“In August 2020, two years into our marriage, we had a beautiful baby girl, Layla. Oh, I cannot thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to be a mommy. You are the best daddy,” Jasmin said.

Executive Pastor Chris Connell said Torres was a devoted husband and father, joking that while Torres was a good-looking guy with a “great smile,” Jasmin had told him that the first thing she noticed was Torres’ heart, built for service, and then, later, that he was good looking.

In his obituary, his family describes him that way as well. Torres helped with dinner when he wasn’t working, played with his daughter and their dog Benji, and ran errands for his wife. He liked movies and video games and was a die-hard New York Knicks and New York Jets fan, no matter the taunts that came with it.

A native New Yorker

Torres was born in Queens, New York, one of three children of Carlos Torres and Maritza Cortes. He grew up in Jackson Township, New Jersey, about halfway between Trenton and the Jersey shore, graduating in 2011 from Jackson Liberty High School.

When he left the Marine Corps in February 2021, Torres was stationed in Jacksonville. He moved to Raleigh a month later to train as an officer for the Raleigh Police Department.

“You did it. And I am so so proud of you. You were so dedicated to your work, I had to beg you to use your time off, your night shifts were hard, it created distance, but we got through it,” Jasmin said.

She also shared her experience on Oct. 13, calling it, by far, the hardest day of her life. She said she found Torres wounded, with his life slipping away.

Torres was off-duty at the time of the shooting, but was on his way to work when he was shot and killed, as previously reported by The News & Observer.

Jasmin said she tried to save him with all her strength and that, while she couldn’t, she was happy to have been there with him, glad she was able to kiss his skin while it was still warm, and hoped that he heard her telling him she loved him.

“You’ll forever be missed, I’ll forever yearn for your touch but eventually I’ll get through it, don’t worry about us, be in peace,” she said. “Our family down here is much larger than I’d ever have guessed, you’d be so amazed, I love you, we’ll get through this.”

Police Academy graduation

Raleigh Police Chief Estella Patterson shared that on Nov. 4, 2021, she attended the graduation of the 123rd Raleigh Police Academy class. It held special significance for her because it was the first class graduation she attended as the new chief in Raleigh and because she had also graduated from the 123rd class but for the Charlotte Mecklenburg Police Department 25 years earlier.

“I remember looking at the recruits as they stood at attention, and keying in on recruit Torres and feeling extreme pride in how he presented himself,” Patterson said.

“He had a fresh cut. I’m told that if he didn’t have anything, he always had a fresh cut. His jacket was tailored, his tie straight, badge polished, slacks at the proper length — dry cleaned with a straight crease — shoes were well polished. He stood tall, shoulders back, chin up and eyes forward, proud and strong, a direct representation of our great organization and our profession,” Patterson said.

She also learned, in conversations with his classmates, that what Torres displayed on the outside was a direct reflection of what he exemplified on the inside, Patterson said.

“Torres was a servant, leader, a role model, a great example, always finding the good in any situation as a motivation to others. He cared deeply about those around him and pushed everyone he touched to do their best. He refused to leave another one behind, even if it meant extra laps. Extra deadlifts or extra burpees. God bless him.”

He phoned classmates between calls to check in on them, he always had something on hand to share — whether socks, T-shirt, a flashlight or a few extra dollars — and was seldom in a bad mood, she said.

And if “by chance he was, his outlook was, tomorrow will be a better day. His positivity was infectious,” Patterson said.

But what was most noticeable about Torres, was his love for his family, she said. “Jasmine and Layla, you held a special place in his heart. His greatest joys were showing his coworkers pictures of Layla and telling them what a great wife and mother you are, Jasmin,” Patterson said.

A colleague’s memories

Cedric Perry II had been on the force about a year and a half when Torres graduated from the police academy and was assigned to Perry’s squad covering the Northwest District, roughly from Crabtree Mall to Brier Creek. Along with six other officers, they shared the same 12-hour shifts, responded to many of the same calls, caught up on paperwork together and ate meals at the same time, Perry said in an interview with the N&O.

“Torres was a very kind police officer, a very hard-working officer,” Perry said. “He was a good man. He was a good brother.”

At about 5’8” and 160 or so pounds, Perry said, Torres wasn’t a large physical presence. But his demeanor – calm, earnest, aware – was so powerful that when he entered a situation, people seemed to exhale.

“He was more the helper,” said Perry, who worked as an officer in Maryland before moving to Raleigh. “To me sometimes, some cops are enforcers. They just want to enforce the law, they don’t care about all the different aspects of what’s been going on. They just want to make an arrest.

“Not Torres. He showed great compassion in dealing with victims and suspects.”

Torres would take the time to listen to people, to understand a situation, Perry said. Fluent in Spanish, he often served as an interpreter on calls.

He was quick on his feet, Perry said, remembering a call they both responded to soon after Torres got his badge in which a suspect instantly wanted to fight.

“I knew right then he had a good future ahead of him,” Perry said. “Some officers, they get through training and out into the real world, they don’t know what to do without someone telling them. But Torres had good tactics and was so professional, always wanting to be there to be a source of help.”

The night of the shootings, the squad was scheduled to work 6 p.m. to 6 a.m., but Perry was assigned to spend the shift in the Southeast district so he could learn more of the city, he said. He assumed Torres was on duty in the Northwest.

As the shift started, Perry said, he was pulling into the Southeast station and met officers coming out with lights and sirens running. He turned on the radio, heard there was an active shooter and headed toward the scene. He went onto the Neuse River Greenway to help set a perimeter, and stayed until the assailant was captured.

When Perry cleared the scene and checked in with an officer in his squad, he found out that Torres had been in his car outside his house, waiting for his wife and daughter to get home before he left for work so he could kiss the baby goodnight.

Perry said that typically, Torres didn’t put on his uniform until he reached the station. Unless the shooter knew him, he might not have been aware Torres was a police officer.

All police know the job can be dangerous, Perry said. But when the shooting started in Hedingham, Torres was just another neighbor, another target. He wasn’t on duty, where his squad would have had his back.

“Me and his other squadmates, we’ve all been very upset,” Perry said. “We take pride in sending everybody home at night, so we felt like it wasn’t fair for something tragic to happen to him and us not be there to do something about it.

“I don’t feel like it was a fair way to go,” Perry said. “It’s just a hard pill to swallow, not being able to be there to help.”

In addition to his wife and daughter, Torres is survived by his parents; brother, Joshua Torres; sister, Gizel Torres; and both sets of grandparents.

A burial mass for Torres will be held later at St. Stephen’s Catholic Church in Kearny, New Jersey, with burial in Holy Cross Cemetery in North Arlington, New Jersey.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Law Enforcement United, benefiting the children of fallen officers. at PO Box 14097, Chesapeake, Virginia 23325.

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